


no case of lust

by jjong



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Questionable Use of Office Furniture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22634902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjong/pseuds/jjong
Summary: Binder clips are digging into his spine where they’re strewn across Jay’s desk, and he jerks away from the pinch, pushing impossibly closer against the long line of Callum’s body. He’d done a shitty job of clearing the surface, but it was the best his brain could manage through its sex-addled haze.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 7
Kudos: 105





	no case of lust

**Author's Note:**

> continuation of the ex sex on a desk that took me forever to write bc uni

It’s not the route he expected his day to take. One minute he’s damn near having an aneurysm worrying about Lou and the next Callum’s there and Ben’s spreading his legs almost as soon as their lips touch. He lets Callum press close and pin him down against the desk, opens his thighs wider so there’s no mistaking what he’s asking for. Callum loses his jacket somewhere along the way, and Ben’s shirt slips down his shoulders when Callum undoes enough buttons to get his mouth on Ben’s chest.

It feels like Callum’s hands are everywhere, gripping at his waist and hiking his legs up higher and pawing clumsily at his crotch and Ben can barely breath with how much he wants him. Callum leans back to strip off his shirt, chucking it somewhere by the water cooler. Ben’s shirt is bunched up underneath him, sticking to his skin where moisture is pooling in the small of his back. He should take it off, he’ll be smelling of sex and sweat all day if he doesn’t, but maybe that’s what stops him. The thought of smelling like Callum once this is over and Ben chases him away again. He leaves it on, and clings desperately to the shorn nape of Callum’s neck.

Binder clips are digging into his spine where they’re strewn across Jay’s desk, and he jerks away from the pinch, pushing impossibly closer against the long line of Callum’s body. He’d done a shitty job of clearing the surface, but it was the best his brain could manage through its sex-addled haze. Thought it the easiest way to convey ‘I need to fuck you before I explode’ without actually having to say it.

Loosening the grip his thighs have taken around Callum’s waist, Ben allows him just enough wiggle room to step out of his jeans. He’s hard enough that his dick’s peeking out of his boxer briefs, flushed and wet and Ben practically starts salivating at the sight. He really wants to suck it, but he’s aware they’re already running on borrowed time here and he needs Callum inside of him before this strange little bubble they’re in bursts. He chooses instead to suck on Callum’s tongue, nipping it to make him bristle and keen into Ben’s mouth.

“C’mere,” Callum huffs, impatient, hoisting Ben around the waist to get his belt unbuckled and artlessly yank his trousers down his legs until they’re bunched at one ankle. Once he’s got Ben stripped mostly to his boxers, Callum eyes the wet spot with the beginning of a badly concealed grin. “What’s got you so worked up?”

“You,” Ben states plainly, too strung out to come up with anything clever, and angles his hips toward Callum in a wholly unsubtle invitation. “Fuck me, Cal, _c’mon_.”

Callum shakes in his arms, shakes his head and kisses at Ben’s nose. “I wasn’t planning on this, Ben, I ain’t got a condom.” 

Ben flushes, wants to tell him to forget it, to take him bare, but he can’t be sure he’s clean, can’t remember some of the guys he’s been with these past few weeks, let alone if they used protection. As good as it would feel to have nothing between them, to feel it inside when Callum starts to come, Ben doesn’t want to take the risk. Not with him.

“My wallet,” he gasps, nodding toward where its sitting with the rest of his shit on his own desk. His voice sounds weird, breathy and touched-out like it gets when he’s already came twice and trying for another.

God, he’s screwed.

Callum plucks a condom and an individual sachet of lube out of one of the inside pockets and huffs a humourless chuckle. “Always prepared, eh?”

He sounds sad, like he knows Ben wasn’t carrying condoms with him in the off chance that Callum swung by. He turns the wallet over in his hands, tracing Ben’s initials with a solitary finger. Looks like he wants to say something, but the moment passes, so Ben doesn’t either.

He _does_ grab the condom as soon as Callum’s back within his orbit, back between his legs where he belongs. He gets Callum’s boxers pushed down just enough for his cock to spring free, knuckles knocking against Callum’s stomach, and Ben’s traitorous hands begin to shake as he rolls the condom onto Callum’s dick. He strokes him once, twice, just to feel the weight of it, and his stomach jumps when he thinks about it being inside of him.

Now.

 _Right now_.

He whines, grip crossing over to the wrong side of tight as his movements become frantic, and Callum shushes him, stilling him with a gentle hand to the wrist. Despite the raw frisson of electricity running beneath his skin, Ben settles, goes limp everywhere but where it counts and lets Callum put him where he wants him.

“It’s gonna be tight,” Callum warns, warming the little sachet of lube in one of his fists, affectionate concern brightening his big blue eyes, “ain’t got time to open you up.”

“Oh, fuck that. Just wanna feel ya, you can stick it in now if you want.” He means it. It would hurt, sure, but it’d be worth it just to feel the phantom stretch of him inside even after he’s gone and Ben’s alone in his bed with nothing but the memory for company. He tracks the movement of Callum’s hand as it slicks his cock, watches his stomach clench with the stimulation as he towers over him with his gorgeous prick framed by long, talented fingers and Ben makes a wild grab for him. “Get back down here before I get a crick in my neck.”

Callum doesn’t need to be asked twice, surges forward and kisses him quiet, his fingertips brushing the inside of Ben’s thighs as he lines himself up. “Want me to put it in?” He asks, rubbing the wet, blunt head against the crease of Ben’s arse.

“Mhmm,” Ben breathes, head falling back in anticipation as he watches Callum through half-lidded eyes, “fuck me.”

“Think I should make you wait. Let you lie there and beg for it.”

Ben tugs at Callum’s hair in a weak protest, but honestly, he’s never been above begging if it means getting a cock inside him. He hooks his heels over Callum’s arse to pull him in, but he’s not so easily led; “say it,” he hisses, his tone tipping over from teasing into something darker, something primal that makes Ben’s entire body pulse.

“I want your dick in me, wanna come on it, just—fuck me, baby, _please_.” He sees a flash in Callum’s eyes at the pet name and Ben really didn’t mean to say it, but his brain’s not exactly engaging with the rest of him at the moment.

Callum pushes in with one solid thrust and Ben’s breath sputters out of him in an embarrassing, hitching gasp, hips spasming as his body adjusts to the sudden stretch. He loves this part, the bone-deep ache slowly melting into pleasure. With his breathing back under control and his body no longer protesting the intrusion, he regains the wherewithal to realize that Callum hasn’t moved again since—he stays put, buried to the hilt and just staring down at him with a curious expression that makes Ben squirm.

“This you making me wait for it?” The forced cockiness in his tone sounds false even to his own ears, can only hope it covers how hard his heart’s beating. Callum’s brow furrows, his face still set in a way Ben can’t read, and he rotates his hips slowly in an agonizing drag against his prostate.

“Serves you right for being such a shit to me.” There’s no teasing edge to Callum’s voice, he just sounds resigned and a little tired.

Realisation splinters through the shock and Ben’s never been so instantaneously ashamed and turned in such quick succession before, the conflicting emotions stoking a fire in his gut. He doesn’t currently have the brain capacity to apologize, though he should, really. He _has_ been a shit to Callum. Will always be a shit, will hurt and lie and ruin him—

The shame’s starting to win out, and Ben blunders forward to catch Callum around the neck, pull him in, get him moving, make him feel _good_. He knows how to do that with his body, at least, if not with his words.

The first proper thrust is enough to knock Ben off balance, but he manages to get a hand on the desk in time for the second one, steadying himself against Callum’s rapidly increasing pace. The air in the cabin is thick with the heady scent of sex, and Callum’s hair is starting to droop with sweat. Ben absentmindedly reaches up to brush it away from his forehead, swallows a rise of emotion when Callum’s eyes sparkle at the simple gesture.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Ben says, words tumbling out of their own volition. All day, all week, since they last saw each other in the square, really. He shoves a hand between his own thighs, runs it inwards to feel where they’re connected, and Callum’s hips shudder harder in response. “Thinking about you.”

Callum makes a little whimpering noise and Ben can see the shift on his face, smudgy pink and shattered open, when he loses the reigns. He grabs Ben's hips and drives into him, hot and hard and urgent, and Ben keeps babbling, fingers scrabbling at Callum’s shoulders. “You’re so good, Cal, so good at fucking me.”

He hopes to God there’s no one mooching about the lot right now because they’d definitely hear him. Callum hadn’t even locked the door. Jay could walk in at any moment to see Ben getting railed on _his_ desk in the middle of the day. He’d never hear the end of it.

Callum’s fingers skirt beneath the halves of Ben’s shirt to tweak at his nipples—the way he knows Ben likes, which makes him gasp and his cock drool a sticky line across his belly—and isn’t that just like Callum to be so fucking attentive even when they’re broken up. His thighs are shaking with exertion as Callum moves to spread them wider, settling deeper into his body with a grunt. Hands dig painfully into Ben’s waist, holds him still while Callum gives it to him with enough force that all Ben can do is take it. It’s good. So good that he can’t think of anything else.

Orgasm licks at his spine, coiling deep into his gut, and Callum’s making these gorgeous little noises that rumble pleasantly through to Ben’s core.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—you’re gonna make me come.”

Callum apparently wasn’t kidding about making Ben wait for it, locking strong fingers around the base of his shaft, tight and unyielding, and Ben makes a hideous whimpering sound, his hips twisting unhappily at the unwanted halt to proceedings.

“ _Ask_ me for it,” Callum sounds desperate, clearly just as wrecked as Ben despite the command, and he’s _still_ fucking him—leaving Ben strung out and feeling a little hysterical. He’s so turned on he can feel it in his teeth, there’s sweat stinging the corners of his eyes, and he’s not entirely certain this desk can hold his weight much longer.

“Please,” he gasps, his skin is squeaking across the surface with each thrust, the sound mingling with the obscene cacophony of heavy breathing and Callum’s hips smacking against his arse, “ _please_ , I’m so _close_.”

Callum softens then, reverting to his usual sensibilities, the hand around Ben’s cock moving once more at a gentle pace at odds with the speed his hips are going.

In the end, it’s the uneven rhythm that does it. Ben’s body doesn’t know where to go, torn between the simmering pleasure the mellow circle of Callum’s fingers provides and the hot, hard cock banging into his prostate. He unfurls, his orgasm fluttering outward from the fire in his belly, making him twitch and curl toward Callum’s body.

Ben’s never been the most accommodating after he comes, his sensitivity threshold on a hair trigger, but Callum’s never felt like an intrusion. Ben would wait for hours if it meant keeping Callum inside him.

It doesn’t take hours, though. It never does. Callum usually always comes as soon as Ben does, he’s romantic like that, and nothing gets him off faster than knowing he’s made Ben feel good. And he does—he makes Ben feel _so_ good, and Ben tells him that, strokes his hair and kisses at the side of his face as Callum shudders through his orgasm. Afterwards, his hips are still moving gently against Ben as he catches his breath, and Ben just rolls with it, letting his thighs fall open beneath him. Breathes him in and pretends just for a second, that things are normal.

Eventually, Callum eases out and ties the condom off, gingerly dropping it into the bin by Ben’s desk. He looks a little lost after that, hair in disarray and skin a patchy mess, and he slumps backward to land on the couch, his boxers still pushed halfway down his thighs.

Ben rights himself, his back protesting its sustained position over the desk, and shakes his trousers off his ankle before stepping out of his boxers completely, stalks toward the couch and considers Callum for a moment. He looks inviting, all long limbs draped across the cushions like that.

It’s not like Ben is even looking to come again, he just wants the closeness, to feel the connection where everything has been so damn empty. They still need to talk, about them and about where they are, about Callum and if he’s staying for good, about Ben and if he’s still a fuck-up.

The answer to the last question is obviously 'yes', as Ben disregards everything that they _should_ do, in favour of sitting himself down astride Callum’s lap.

“That was nice,” Callum says, conversationally, running his big palms along Ben’s thighs. They’re both big on cuddling after sex, and he’s clearly craving the intimacy just as much. Ben’s been positively touch-starved since that night he stomped on Callum’s heart, and his stomach twists at the thought of Callum feeling the same way.

“Just ‘nice’? Gee, I’m flattered,” Ben blusters, drops his weight more fully onto Callum, and gently tugs at his ears, massaging the lobes when Callum pinches at Ben’s love handles in retaliation.

“You know what I mean, being with you again was—"

“Nice,” Ben repeats softly, knees squeezing Callum’s hips in recognition of everything left unsaid, “I know.”

When the soft look in Callum’s eyes gets too much for Ben’s rapidly beating heart to bear, he shifts gears, brings the room back around to what he can handle. He takes hold of Callum’s hand, lifts it to his mouth to suck at his fingers, because he’s never been subtle and he’s not about to start now.

Callum, bless him, takes the hint and extracts his fingers once they’re sufficiently slick, skirts them around Ben’s rim, still open and wet from taking his cock. 

“This is a bad idea,” Callum tells him half-heartedly, sparing a glance to the as-of-yet still unlocked door, but already leaning close to press kisses along Ben’s jaw, fingers slowly inching further in.

“Yeah,” Ben agrees on a sigh, rocking down onto the stretch, and fights to keep his eyes open against the pleasure to watch Callum watching him, “the worst.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://merriell.tumblr.com)!


End file.
